An Interlude
by PallaPlease
Summary: [During RotK.]  Faramir and Éowyn walk in the garden of the Houses of Healing.  Vignette.


An Interlude  
  
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He was entranced, then, but with a wisdom he kept where other, lesser women had led him to depart of such; and so he did not feel a fool in looking for the small, hardy woman as he strode forth of the Houses and to the garden's vibrant sanctuary. Wise or entranced, hopefully with a spattering of his wits about him, nonetheless was Faramir pleased to see the Lady Éowyn upon the walls, as bright and clear as the sunlit morn itself. With a subtly lightening heart, he raised his hand and bid her join him in a kind voice. And when she noded solemnly, a gesture distant where she stood, and lifting the hem of her skirts made a short sojourn to the chiseled steps, he felt a peculiar gentleness within his breast that was not quite pity.  
  
"Good morn I say to you, lord," she attempted a smile bravely. Her hair was gold and pale in the sun, as calm with lack of breeze as her face was serene, and her smile was perhaps more reserved than she had wished. "And a fair one it is, if my eyes do not deceive," said Éowyn. She took his offered arm with clumsy remembrance - was she not more accustomed to the rigors and gravity of dark times? - but in as gracious a manner as she could. "Nary a patch of darkness to hide the sky's blue." She smiled carefully, her arm stiff on his; they began, cautiously for each knew not the other, to step quietly in the garden.  
  
And it came to him that he agree and in quiet tones he did, feeling both older and younger than his mortal years as together they strolled, awkwardly silent; and she smiled hesitantly, a quiet gesture that rid them of the awkwardness to a kinder stillness, such as that of those moving toward friendship. In this companionable tranquility did Faramir and the Lady Éowyn walk, accustoming themselves to the rpesence of the other as the sounds of birds grew softly stronger in the trees and hedge-rows. This simple thing came as a welcome brightness, for in days before had the sound of innocent life been missing when through his window he listened in vain to hear the glimmer chirps; and it was as a shadow lifting from his heart thought hers remained withdrawn, and indeed was the day fair.  
  
"It brings me joy to know you should come with me," spoke Faramir; his voice was kind, and she looked up at him with a smile.  
  
"You speak in kindness, lord," replied Éowyn carefully in the light of the early sun. "But I wonder if you flatter me overly so, for little do you kno0w of me and of my faults, both humane and desperate alike." With this neutral admission she became empty of words and so deigned merely to walk, grateful that he did not speak in swift reply; and listening as well to the birds whispering about in their branches and nests of twig and leaf, she did not cede apology or hesitation about her words.  
  
"I do not see how I might flatter you in excess with my happiness for companionship, Lady Éowyn," said Faramir, in tones not wholly grave. "I, too, am not without my wrongs and foolishness, for I am human as you are; and in humanity am I faulted, set in my ways and often a youthful fool. It comes as a great relief, I confess, to be assured of your mortal failings: a lady of fault and beauty can I speak to; an ethereal woman of nary imperfection, I cannot say I should find simple to converse with." And he was serious in the honest ways of the tender-hearted, and he smiled down upon her as below a trail of overlapping trees they passed, now dappled in shadow, and now covered with sunlight.  
  
She was without reply a while more, intent on the solemn reckonings of the gardens. And then did she realize her arm clasped his yet and she released her hold, gently, to keep her paled hands together; he did not mention this sudden movement to her, for which, again, she was grateful. "I have done little to be seen as that of a lady," said she finally. "I know better the ways to defend and fight with blade and shield than the gentility and softness of hearth and healing." She was unapologetic, and her head lifted, only so, to gaze at the sky with her steeled grey eyes.  
  
And he understood her words; so spoke Faramir: "Then shall we speak of it no further, Éowyn?" But for a small movement in his face he was calm, as that of a youth who knows frankness in tongue; and though she started to hear her name spoken easily by one who was little more than a friendly stranger, she could not help but to smile slowly at the tall steward for his subtle kindness.  
  
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Notes: I do so love Faramir; I'm not sure if the dialogue is done well, and the ending, it seems to me, might have been a bit forced. Erm.  
  
Disclaimer: Faramir and Éowyn are the creations of J.R.R. Tolkien and are the solemn property of Tolkien estates. (Or is that sovereign...?)  
  
Set: RotK, Book 6, Chapter V (The Steward and the King).  
  
Feedback: Well - what's the verdict? Bleh or blah? 


End file.
